


The Sight Of A Warrior

by Rosella_Burgundy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Norse Religion & Lore, Alternate Universe - Vikings, F/M, Minor Character Death, Oracles, Prophetic Visions, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella_Burgundy/pseuds/Rosella_Burgundy
Summary: Viking AU: All young Vikings are taught the stories of Norse history. But what happens when a young pair stumble into an epic situation of their own?





	1. The Seeress and The Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
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> Viking AU: All young Vikings are taught the stories of Norse history. But what happens when a young pair stumble into an epic situation of their own?
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> Thank you InDreams and Kyonomiko for setting up this magical fest. They worked tirelessly and were always available and kind.  
> Much love to my beta RooOJoy. She took the time to help me even if her life is crazy right now. She's the precious gem on my Viking's sword handle.  
> JK owns the characters, this is just a work of fanfiction in which I heavily experimented with Omniscient Narration.

 

_The earth trembled when the white dragon landed on the black sand. The maiden with the eyes made of embers sat under the thick reddening canopy of the Ancient Willow, beholding the beast as it stretched and folded its wings._

_With a low growl, the creature acknowledged the presence of the human girl. Huffing from its fuming nostrils, he shook its enormous, spiked head. The dragon set his muscular legs in motion, clawed feet digging in the dark, fine gravel._

_The ground shook again when the animal came to a halt and stomped its forefeet in front of the great tree. The reptile greeted the human with a roar, warming the air around them. The leaves rattled and the branches swayed, shook by the dragon’s breath._

_With a gentle smile, the maiden greeted her old acquaintance, her legs hurrying to erase the distance between them. The dragon lowered its head, spikes aligning with its extended neck in a menacing posture, ready to spit fire. The maiden stood tall, her face in front of the sneering jaws, and slowly she reached forward with a delicate hand. She closed her eyes, welcoming the monster and its mortal fire as though she accepted her fate and anticipated the heat of the flames that would burn her life away._

_A red, crispy leaf detached from the Ancient Willow and descended in a spiralling swirl. It settled on the sand between the beast and the girl, and the dragon bent its knees and bowed to her instead, his giant muzzle nudging forward and touching her palm._

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Chest heaving and hands trembling, she brushed the sweat dampened curls from her face. The need for fresh air pulled her out of her hut. The moon shone her rays on her while she beheld the bay from the cliff. Still engulfed by the sensations of her vision, she whispered in the wind.  “Draco will return when the first leaf falls at the beginning of autumn.”

 

* * *

 

Draco was hard faced. Not only because he rarely showed any sympathy or empathy for other people, hiding his feeling behind that mask of stoic toughness but also due to his acuminate, angular features. Sharp jaw and long nose painted his face with slopes and harshness.

The seabirds were squawking high in the sky when the longships entered the narrow channel that brought to the ancient city of Hogsmeade. Gazing towards the cliff from his stance at the dragon headed prow of the longship that was the symbol of his clan, he lifted his pointy chin towards the sky and inhaled the familiar scent of the salty air interlaced with the sweetness diffusing from the willow trees. A light breeze carried the fragrance of freshly baked bread, meat and vegetable stew, tree sap, recently cut timber, and something fishy and musty that formed that familiar smell of where Draco grew up. It smelled of home, and it sent a thrill through Draco’s veins. He had been away for far too long.

His silvery eyes squinted in the sunlight, the God Sol shining his rays through his water crystalline irises and sparking millions of azure particles to life. The Viking warrior strained his sight, brushing back his long platinum hair until the forgiving shapes of the mountain range that surrounded the bay covered the incandescent sphere, allowing him to finally discern the village.

He drank in the sight of the sandy beach, the green hills beyond the wooden longhouses, and to the left of the town, the steep cliff that was the end of the promontory over the sea. There, as he had hoped, he saw her.

Hermione stood on the precipice, tunic billowing in the wind and wild dark, curly hair dancing over her face.

Draco grabbed his axe and rose it to her direction, saluting her with a head tilt, content that she wasn’t among the welcoming crowd. They didn’t bid farewell placidly before he set his course for the open sea, following his craving for the excitement of battle. On these grounds, the warrior thanked the Gods for keeping her away from him, bestowing upon him their continued favour. The short sleeved tunic slid up his perfectly chiselled arm as he hoisted his weapon and revealed a black tattoo on his bicep. Two dragons embraced a round shield, each wrapping it from opposite sides, limbs dancing as the muscles underneath the ink rippled and contracted.

Hermione groaned at the sight of him, instinctively covering her left forearm with her hand. Beneath the sleeve of her azure tunic, laid the same horrible mark, branding her as a member of the tribe. She loathed it. A sense of relief invaded her when she saw that all the boats found their way back safely, especially the longship full of red headed warriors among which stood also a raven haired wizard. Ron and Harry were safe as well.

As the vessel touched the dock, Draco jumped down and made his way through the chanting village that had gathered to welcome back the warriors. Swerving among grasping hands that tried to stop him and greet him, he finally made his way to where the chieftain was awaiting him.

“Welcome back, my son.” Lucius pulled him in a tight embrace. Heart swelling with love and relief, he handed his son over to the greedy arms of his wife that could hardly wait for her turn to squeeze him.

Draco freed himself from Narcissa’s smothering hug and signalled to Crabbe and Goyle to bring the raid plunder. The corpulent fighters hauled a large chest full of treasures and spoils.

Taking a sword and a shield from the crate, Draco announced proudly, “Voldemort is dead!” The village roared and rejoiced as he placed the broken shield and the weapon in front of the chieftain as an offering. All the Vikings eagerly stared at the cracked emblem that had once been neatly painted on the shield. The symbol of the rival chieftain had been a black serpent slithering out of a skull.

Lucius rose his hand to quiet the crowd so that he could speak. “The raid was successful! Thanks to my son, the eastern territories are no longer a threat to our kingdom.”

Before Draco could ask for permission to speak and give his people more details on their expedition, a warrior shouldered his way into the clearing and stood tall before the chieftain. “My lord, it was my clan who found where Voldemort was hiding, and Harry killed him, not your son!” Ronald straightened his back, chin up and chest puffed. He didn’t want to leave all the glory to Draco. His family had fought with valour and sacrificed a lot; they deserved recognition.

Draco inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring and pulling his features into a sneer. He wanted nothing more than to bash Ron’s freckled face in with his axe, but he compelled himself into calmness and nodded to his father. “Harry fought well.” He locked eyes with the warrior that bore an ugly scar on his forehead and motioned for him to step forward.

Harry obliged and went to stand next to Ron, a hand on his best mate’s shoulder asking him to step back and eyes pleading him not to cause farther commotion.

Lucius shot a disappointed glare at his son before thanking Harry for his accomplishments. “You can keep Voldemort’s sword and shield and choose whatever you wish from the plunder.” Indicating to the biggest wooden longhouse in the village, he commanded, “Let’s feast in the Great Hall!”

Hermione set foot in the village when the last of the warriors were entering the Great Hall. She didn’t wish to partake in the celebration, but she wanted to speak to Harry and Ron. She found them next to the fire, surrounded by the Weasley clan. Harry was the first to spot her and jump up to greet her. Ron pulled her in his strong arms and lifted her off the ground. “I missed you, Seeress!”

Molly, the clan matriarch, handed her a plate full of meat, vegetables, and bread. George gave her a horn mug full of ale and clashed his own to roast, pride glinting in his eyes, “To Frederick. He’s feasting with the Gods now!”

Hermione put a hand on her mouth, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes and quickly spilling over. George gave her a sympathetic smirk, thinking how odd it was to see someone so distraught by death. “It’s unfortunate that you can’t see the death of a warrior as an honour. Fred’s in Valhalla. Rejoice with me!”

Hermione had been raised in a Christian village. Therefore, she feared God’s judgment in the afterlife. “I didn’t _see_ it. I’m sorry Molly, Arthur, I could have warned you.”

“It’s not your fault.” Harry placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder but was quickly pulled away by Ginny who came in swaying her hips and hair, and took him away to drink with her.

An acute and high pitched laugh pierced Hermione’s ears, and Ron made a face as his eyes turned to where Draco was sitting, surrounded by drunk maidens. Feeling Ron and Hermione’s eyes on him, Draco quirked his eyebrow and lifted a cup towards them as Pansy sat on his lap. Hermione turned just enough so she could hide her face from him behind a cascade of chestnut curls.

“I didn’t think the slave girl would have shown her face in here,” Pansy blurted out with a hiccup.

“She’s not a slave anymore. She’s under Dumbledore’s protection.” Daphne pointed out.

Astoria poured Draco another cup of ale. “She still came from that gods forsaken Christian island.”

Draco was looking at Hermione while she conversed with Arthur’s sons; he wondered if any of them had staked a claim on her yet. His bets were on Ronald; the git was dumb enough to think he could marry a Seeress. Scanning the hall, he looked for Lucius, finding him in his rightful place.

The girls were still talking about Hermione. “A crow wouldn’t nest in that messy hair!” Pansy chuckled, and Draco decided that he had had enough.

“Christian or not, she has the gift of sight. Hermione is our future Oracle. Once Dumbledore dies, she’ll take his place. Show her respect. She’s the one who will tell you if your womb will remain as empty as your brains once you find a husband.” Draco shoved Pansy off his lap and approached the throne where his father was sitting. Astoria froze with her cup mid air, shooting daggers at Draco’s back as he left them.

“Chieftain, may I speak?” Lucius prompted him to talk with a hand signal. “I would like to ask for permission to join the hunting parties this coming winter. I need to practice my archery skills.”

“Son, you will stay here by my side and observe how I rule. You strayed from your duties long enough. It’s time you learn how to be a chieftain.” Lucius fixed his grey eyes into the fire before him, avoiding his son’s disappointed gaze, and Draco knew his words were not negotiable.

Suddenly, the hall fell silent as Dumbledore appeared in the doorway.

Hermione’s heart skipped a bit as the bearded man stood at the threshold, his blue eyes scanning the hall. He had been away for a while, talking to the Gods, and she had an eerie feeling in her guts that he brought back with him cathartic news.


	2. The Gods' Will

  _Hearing an alien sound coming from high above, the maiden tilted her head to the sky. There, soaring and flapping its majestic wings made of pearlescent membrane, a white dragon pup appeared in her sight. As though the animal sensed her eyes on its figure, it hovered above her, screeching and roaring in salute. The creature made a wide turn through the clouds and descended into the forest, disappearing among the trees._

_Smitten by the candour of its scale, the young girl made her way through the woods. Ducking from low branches and swerving through thick bushes, she reached the clearing where the creature had landed. She giggled when she saw that the dragon was playing with a rock, nudging it with its nose and kicking it with its clawed feet._

_The animal turned its spiked head at the sound of her titter, huffing and jumping up and down in a bizarre greeting dance._

_Succumbing to the need of getting closer to the dragon, the girl entered the clearing. She wasn't even halfway to her new friend when suddenly, a loud, deafening roar ripped the air. She squeezed her eyes, hands pressing on her ears to muffle that horrible sound. In the blink of an eye, something powerful yanked her up and her feet could feel the earth no longer._

_Her stomach flipped as her heart plummeted down in the void she could feel below her. Fear ran wild in her veins as she cracked an eyelid open._

_Below her she saw the forest, the clearing and the pup, looking at her with a confused tilt of its reptilian snout. In the distance, the village was burning, black smoke filling the bay and seeping among the trees in the forest. Her shoulders hurt where the monster was holding on to her. Straining her neck to the sky above, she laid eyes on her abductor - an enormous winged lizard._

Hermione woke up crying, screams and distant fighting immediately filling her mind as they pierced through her ears. Her home was empty, only a light smoke filling up the poor rooms. As she cried for her papa, a tall, muscular figure appeared at the threshold, light grey eyes finding her and lighting up.

“There you are, little Seeress.” It was not her father. The heathen grabbed the little girl, carrying her out in his strong arms.

The village was destroyed. Bodies were scattered everywhere.

 

* * *

 

 

Dumbledore wiggled his nose as the outside brisk, clean air turned into a warm and smoky smell - he was not used to crowded spaces, preferring the peace of his hut on the cliff. He made his way through the crowd, wielding his staff that rattled as the bones that decorated it clung against each other.

Through his beard, he flashed a smile at Hermione as he passed her, and she felt somewhat uneasy. She had a special connection with the elder. He had taken her under his wings since she was eleven, acting as a mentor. Dumbledore taught her how to use her gift and control her visions. He had always been a comforting figure in her life, but lately, there was something he wasn’t telling her. She had consulted the runes, Freya, and even the Christian God, but nothing had come forth in the shape of a vision. She had a feeling that whatever he had been hiding was going to be revealed shortly.

After greeting the Oracle with a respectful bow, Draco stepped aside and let him talk to his father. He knew what was coming. Since he was a little, scrawny boy, the Seer had come to town only for two reasons: to tell the tales of the Gods to the children and to show what the fates had in store for the future. He was not surprised when Dumbledore gathered all the young lads and lasses and began his storytelling. The adults lingered to the sides of that improvised gathering of youth.

Draco had always loved the Gods’ epics, especially that one tale of the majestic Valkyries leading the chosen, fallen warriors to Valhalla for a chance to help Odin face Ragnarok. A lopsided smirk pulled at his lips as he moved firther away and recalled a younger Draco, mischievously interrupting Dumbledore to question each passage because he wanted to know every little detail of the sagas.

Hermione, on the other end, was never fond of Dumbledore’s tedious storytelling. After being dragged in this God deserted village by the heathens, she had been forced to be exposed to their blasphemous idolatry. Although in time she stopped hating the Gods and embraced the cult of Odin, Freya, and rune reading, she still believed it was her old God that bestowed the gift of Sight on her.

Dumbledore smiled fondly, remembering how both his pupil Hermione and the heir to the throne always shot an arm in the air to ask an endless stream of questions, interrupting his tales (even if Hermione did it to dispute the Gods).

“Lads and lasses, listen to the story of Yggdrasil. This enormous ash tree unites the nine cosmos that form our universe.” With his staff, he drew a thick trunk with root and branches on the sandy floor before him. “This majestic column of our world has three roots and each soaks in the waters of the homeworlds, one in Asgard where the Gods reside, one in Midgard where we live and fight, and one in Helheim where the dead lie.” Pausing to catch his old breath, he searched the hall for Draco and Hermione. They were standing at opposite sides. The old man moved his head left and right, lingering his blue eyes on each of them for a brief moment.

Draco felt suddenly uncomfortable as the Seer went on, “The Norns who twine the thread of fate tend to the tree with pure water and clay, preserving the wells and providing us with the fertile rain. Gods and animals alike - serpents, harts, and goats are among them - gather around Yggdrasil to rule and thrive. On top of the tree, in the uppermost branch perches a mighty eagle. With the swiping of its wings, the raptor donates us the wind that moves the air. The great dragon Niðhǫggr rests by the roots, crunching at the tree’s base that heals and regenerates itself continuously. It’s common knowledge that the eagle and the dragon hate each other, and there’s a clumsy little squirrel that goes by the name of Ratatoskr. The rodent is a messenger and carries insults up and down the tree from the eagle to the dragon and the other way around.” Dumbledore finished with a knowing smile, fondly scrutinizing the reactions of the young crowd.

Among the lasses, a petite, freckled girl timidly rose her hand and waited for permission to speak. “What’s the deeper teaching of this story, Seer?”

Draco had observed with a bad taste in his mouth as Dumbledore traced each animal in the dirt, performing their task. He had the feeling that Dumbledore was trying to tell him something, and as the tale progressed, Draco’s heart plummeted lower and deeper into his chest cavity. It didn’t come as a surprise when the Seer locked eyes with him and Hermione for a second time before he addressed the little girl. “Everyone in Hogsmeade has their rightful place, a position to cherish, and a role to play. The role is not set in stone as it can change in time like the warrior becomes old and retires to more sedentary crafts, but it is set by the Gods. And there’s a chain of events that will soon come to pass that will change the roles of some of the people in our village. Odin has recently shown me the future of our village.”

Gasps of surprise filled the air as everybody gazed at each other with uncertain looks. Expectant electricity rose from the ground, and as time passed without Dumbledore explaining what was to come, the surge grew stronger. Hermione wondered why her mentor hadn’t talked to her about his latest visions, a sudden uneasiness gnawing at her stomach. While gulping down his ale in one sip, Draco gripped the horn so tightly that it cracked.

Dumbledore spoke at last, “It is time for our future chieftain to take a wife.” The hall went silent as all eyes fixed on Draco who clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. “The Gods already betrothed one of our maidens to him.” Draco closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow as Dumbledore held Hermione’s gaze in his and proclaimed, “It’s Hermione. A great warrior and a seeress united will bring prosperity and victory on Hogsmeade!”

The silence bubble stretched, ready to burst while the village contemplated the absurdity of that vision. Seeresses couldn't wed. The marriage bond was known to extinguish their powers. As whispers and rumours spread in the hall, Ron wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shaky shoulders, the hand on his side balled in a tight fist. He was not going to let his best friend marry the man that had been nothing but cruel to her, calling her nasty names and ridiculing her in front of the village for years. Only because Draco grew into a slightly more pleasant warrior in recent times, it didn’t mean that Dumbledore’s words could just be taken for true. He knew he would fight for her to be free of this awful obligation even if it came directly from Odin himself. It couldn’t be real.

Hermione’s mind shut down as soon as Dumbledore announced her fate. She barely registered Ron’s soothing strokes on her shoulder, and after a tight smile, she let her feet drag her out of the hall. A blond head at the opposite side of the hall snapped in her direction, but she just kept putting one foot in front of the other, trying to widen the distance gap between them. She had the primal need to be alone so that she could pull the prophecy apart and find a way out.

Draco’s grey eyes followed Hermione as she stumbled on uncertain legs, wild curls bouncing on her slender shoulders. Although it didn’t shock him, her rejection stang his pride like the sharp blade of an enemy’s sword. Nostrils flaring and chest heaving, the warrior let go of his broken horn cup and shouldered his way through the crowd that had gathered around him, eyes firm on Dumbledore.

The Seer was privately conversing with Lucius, whispering in a low voice. “You’ll soon get your chance to enter Valhalla. Odin showed me an upcoming battle and your glory.” With a proud smile, the chieftain rose from his throne and placed a hand on his old friend. “Will I join the raids next spring? Will I die then? I have been craving some action.”

A knowing smirk pulled at Dumbledore’s grey moustache while he said, “That is left to be yet foreseen-“

“Seer!” Draco barreled in, interrupting the respectable elder. “Did Hermione see what’s coming as well? No offence, old man, but she always interprets the Gods’ will correctly. She hasn’t led me astray yet. You, on the other side…” he finished with a telling incline of his head.

Lucius glowered at his son and stood tall, the intention of punishing his heir sparkling in his steely irises. Alas, Dumbledore halted him, hitting his staff hard on the ground between the two warriors, so alike that they resembled a single man’s reflection in a pool of water. “Boy, the girl hasn’t seen it. But she doesn’t speak to the Gods the way I do.”

Draco sneered, his hands shaking and jaw clenched. “Don’t call me boy when you clearly stated that I’m old enough to be wedded.” He didn’t wait for the Seer’s response, turning on his heels and leaving that suffocating hall. He felt his father’s glare piercing the back of his skull all the way.

The air outside was crisp and clear, the wind carrying the refreshing scent of the sea, the fragrance of freedom. Harry had rushed out, following in Hermione's hurried footsteps. She never responded to his worried calls, her tunic hood hiding her paling face while she disappeared in the woods.

“Harry!” The warrior recognized the deep voice of his future chieftain. Turning around, he met two stormy grey eyes.

Draco inhaled deeply, eyes not leaving Harry while he ordered, “Meet me at dawn at the Ancient Willow.”


	3. All Behind

_The ancient Willow was bare, its weeping limbs curled blackened and lifeless against the grey sky. Cheeks streaked by bitter tears, the maiden approached the dead tree. Once the colour of flames and sparks, her irises bore nothing of such anymore. They were dull, faded._

_He would not come. The dragon was gone. She knew that he was still living but just not in this world - her world._

_The sky was void of his majestic frame, the air was silent without his prideful roaring, and her heart felt empty as well._

_The maiden wept, conscious that she would never see his white scale shining in the sunbeam. His grey eyes, filled with ancient tales and dreams, were never going to enter her dreams. His warmth was gone, and she was freezing, frost seeping through her skin and mingling with her blood so it could spread right to her bones._

_She could not see him anymore._

 

* * *

 

The Ancient Willow had watched over Hogsmeade as long as the Viking folks’ memory could recall. That night, the tree had guarded the body of the drunken warrior who had stumbled uphill to seek some solace from his worries.

Draco was exhausted when the dawn met his heavy eyelids. His head pounded as he tried to sit straight.  As soon as he managed to lift his bare back from the scratchy bark, his churning stomach betrayed him, spilling all its contents on the mossy ground that surrounded the willow’s thick roots.

“Didn’t daddy teach you not to mix ale with mead?” Harry chuckled as he made his way up the hill to the sacred tree. Draco answered with an irritated grunt as he spat out the last of his bile.

“The Chieftain can never hear about this,” Draco ordered, eyes glaring dark threats. Muscles still a little tangled, he slowly slid his back up the trunk, forcing some shameful runts of pain to stay down his throat. The floral and somewhat minty scent radiating from the willow helped his nausea.

Sensing that Draco was trying to hide way more than a night of too much feasting, Harry froze, his body barely under the large canopy of the willow. Scattered around the warrior, there were a large travel sack, his shield, axe and sword, a longbow and enough arrows to kill a herd of reindeer. Eyebrows pinching together, he hesitated before asking, “Are you going on a hunt? The parties won’t leave for another month and-”

“I’m leaving,” Draco announced, eyes fixed on Harry’s emerald gaze. He didn’t have time to waste.

Eyes widening with the realization of what was supposed to be his next chieftain just said, Harry erased the distance between them and shouted in his face, “You coward! You can’t leave your people!”

Draco snorted, slipping a tunic on his head and starting to collect his belongings.“Scar boy, I decided to confide in you because I was sure you were going to be the happiest to see me go, not because I wanted you to try to stop me.”

Chest expanding with every sharp inhale, Harry rubbed a hand on his face, stopping on the scruffed hair of his chin. “You have no loyalty towards the village? What about your family? Your Mother?”

“I served under my father my whole life. I just want to decide for myself, for once.” Draco smoothed his long hair back, trapping it in with a leather string at his nape.

Won by rage, Harry pushed Draco against the rough surface of the trunk, the warrior’s back hitting it hard. “How can you be so selfish?” Harry’s knuckles were white as his hands were balled in tight fists around Draco’s tunic.

Draco shrugged, immediately freeing his garment from Harry’s hold with a brusque shoulder scroll. “I am what I am.” His eyes, as sharp as the blade of his axe, fixed on Harry’s.

“Why?” Harry felt his green irises becoming softer as he suspected Draco’s departure had something to do with the fact that he didn’t want to marry the girl that he directed all his cruel jokes toward while growing up.

Draco straightened his back, blazing eyes piercing the air with determination. “I can’t be chieftain. I want to die on the battlefield. I’m a warrior, not a judge or a ruler. I don’t want to be sitting on a throne and listen to shepherds fight over a Gods forsaken goat or similar mundane issues. I’d die of boredom.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry scoffed. “So you decided that betraying your folks is a fair price to get what you want. What will happen to the village if you leave?”

With a glint in his eyes, Draco slipped his arm ring that bore his clan’s dragon symbol off and handed it out to Harry. “I want you to succeed my father. Your family is in line, we are related and nobody will complain. It is probably better to pass the power to someone that will marry into the Weasley clan. They produce many male heirs every generation. I’m my father’s only child. My family never provided many warriors for the village.”

Having fought many battles alongside Draco, he knew that when he made a decision, there was no way to change his mind. He reluctantly grabbed the arm ring; fingers tight on the piece of jewellery, his hand fell to his side. “Your parents will not believe this.”

Draco’s eyes briefly lowered to Harry’s side. “But you’ll have my arm ring as proof I chose you.”

“They’ll think that I killed you.” Resignation was thick in Harry’s voice.

A sad smile spread on Draco’s face as he said, “Hermione will see that I’m alive. Please take care of her, don’t let Ron be a weasel and mistreat her.” His eyes fled to the sky. “I know she’ll be his woman instead.”

Green eyes, sparkling in the morning sun, Harry smirked. “You are passing on your chance to marry her and give her away so easily? I never thought you would. I know you love her, despite your facade of hate. Despite you harassed her all her life.”

Draco’s shoulders slumped down as he secured his axe to his belt. “She doesn’t want to be my wife and she’s not mine to give, Scar boy. She has a mind of her own and not even Odin can give her away. If she’s smart, she won’t marry the ginger moron either!”

“She won’t. Oracles don’t marry.”

Draco scoffed, mentally counting all other ways in which she could give herself away.

Harry inspected the metal circlet in his hands, spinning it, the sun glinting on the precious surface. Before he did anything with it, he needed to find counsel in Ron and Hermione. His eyes searched for Draco’s again. “What if you decide to come back?”

“If that's the Gods’ will, I’ll fight as your best warrior under the emblem of your clan.” Draco swang the heavy satchel on his back, ready to go.

“May the Gods give you a good death,” Harry wished.

“To you as well, Scar boy, just don’t go to Valhalla before you take care of my people.” With a slight incline of his head, Draco bid farewell to Harry. After patting the rough surface of the Ancient Willow, the warrior climbed the hill, abandoning Hogsmeade and its people. He didn’t look back to give a final look to the familiar sight of the village and the cliff, even if he felt his heartstrings tugging his chest to the opposite direction.

Under the weight of his burden, he walked the hills and mountain sides for months. The green land was now hidden beneath a thick layer of ice and snow, slowing down his journey to freedom and tricking his footfall. He stayed on the coastline, hunting and fishing for sustainment, occasionally stopping at a village for some ale and supplies for the first couple of months. When he reached the farthest known village from Hogsmeade, he settled in a small hut on the outskirts, right next to the tree line. The warrior was waiting for spring to come when he could finally offer his services to the chieftain and join the raids to the west. In the meantime, he lived off what he could hunt and buy in the village.

On a misty dawn, Draco awoke to a sweet floral scent. He smiled at the memories of childhood summers when he and his crew pretended to raid and fight under the smelly branches of the willow trees. He was surely dreaming, he thought while his eyes were still shut. Willows didn’t grow so far north; it surely was just a cruel joke of his imagination.

He shoved the sleeping pelts away from his body and sat up. His eyes scanning his surroundings, ears listening to the rustling of the pine branches outside. He was alone, far from home. The smell was not there anymore, but somehow the phantom of it remained in the back of his throat all morning. It never left him as he ate a poor breakfast, and it followed him in the forest.

The scent of home was still there, as an omen, while he was scouring the woods, tracking down a small herd of reindeer. He found the animals by the river while they were precariously balancing themselves on the slippery and icy shores, trying to reach the moving waters to quench their thirst.

With the grip of his longbow secured in his left hand, he reached behind his back and extracted one arrow from his quiver. He only had one chance to kill the large buck he was eying; if he failed, all the herd would flee, taking his sustainment with them. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air and being extremely careful not to make any noise, he knocked the arrow and drew the string with all his strength. He had a clear view of the animal’s chest; it was an easy kill. He released his breath, aiming at the reindeer’s heart. The instant before he released the arrow, a terrified scream ripped the silence. The buck lifted his antlers, alerting the herd that instantly scattered, hoofs thundering on the river rocks. Draco missed his opportunity.

More shouting and clanging sounds disturbed the stillness of the forest, and it sounded like someone was fighting for their life. Without giving him the time to think, his feet begun a barreling run through the forest, attracted by those distressed cries.

As he dodged tree branches and jumped treacherous roots, something inside his chest was aching. Those cries were pulling him under in a pool of nostalgia as they made him think of home.

Finally, he reached a clearing and he saw what the commotion was about. Three men were surrounding a maiden, her face was hidden by a large hooded fur cloak. Nonetheless, Draco could tell that she was fighting with strength and honour. A fourth man was on the frozen ground, his chest broken and crimson. The girl was swinging her axe with dexterity and precision, but they were too many for her to take down. As one teased her from behind, she swivelled on her feet and the hood fell on her shoulders, freeing long dark curls that bounced around with her. Those locks, framing a face that was sculpted in his heart, gave away her identity - Hermione.


	4. Confessions

With meticulous movements, he knocked the arrow back in place and aimed at one of the harassers. The bolt whistled, ripping the air, and reached its target. The man dropped dead. Abandoning the bow on the frozen ground, Draco unhooked his axe from his belt and threw it at a second man that had taken advantage of Hermione’s distraction to approach her. He, too, fell lifeless in a matter of seconds before he could touch her. The third warrior had spotted the newcomer and was running in his direction, sword firmly in his hand. Draco drew his own steel from his back holster.

Hermione followed the man, her body still shaking from the fatigue and the fear that her mind had been swimming in. In a gasp of surprise, she recognised her saviour. Draco was running towards the fiend, face scrunched in concentration, and she froze.

“You can’t stop our pack. The Wolven clan will conquer all Norse territories,” the man yelled while he took a swing at Draco, his eyes wide and mad, driven by euphoria.

Draco swerved sideways, easily moving his body from the sword path, and landed a blow on the man’s side. Infuriated by the sudden pain, he growled and grabbed his axe with his free hand. Draco stepped closer, avoiding the enemy’s axe that was coming for his head. Draco didn’t see the other weapon coming for him.

Hermione assisted at the whole thing with a lump in her throat, fearing for Draco’s life. Panic running through her veins, her body snapped out of stillness as she begun to run brandishing her hatchet.

The sword tip penetrated Draco’s thigh, blurring his vision for a split second. Inhaling sharply, nostril flaring for the pain and frustration, he focussed on the weapon in his hand. He wielded it forward, using all his body weight. The tip sunk into the man’s stomach. Eyes wide in surprise, the enemy stumbled backwards, slipping on the frozen ground and falling on his back, Draco's steel still deep in his guts.

Hermione was at her saviour's side now; she knew that she should offer Draco a shoulder to lean on, but she was drawn to the man that was slowly bleeding out on the cold earth.

“We can’t be stopped. Even if you kill us, more will follow. The wolves will eat the Sun and the Moon. All will be ours.” The man was delirious, but something clicked deep inside Hermione’s mind where her Sight absorbed its magic from.

“You, fool.” Draco hopped away, his leg pulsing in rhythm with his accelerated heartbeat and the blood warming and staining his trousers. Approaching the body he had struck with his axe, he extracted the blade, dislodging it from flesh and bones with a sloshy sound.

“Fenrir the Wolf will find you.” The dying man’s voice was feeble and raspy now. Hermione kneeled down next to him, searching his features for something she couldn’t quite put her mind on.

Draco shook his head, dragging his feet back to him and purposely avoiding Hermione’s stare that had settled on him. He ignored her voice when she pleaded, “Don’t kil-”

“May Hel take you,” Draco hissed, towering over his enemy. His axe descended on the man's throat, putting an end to his nonsense.

“Why did you kill him? He was about to reveal something meaningful.” Hermione shook her head, the memory of a dream she was yet to have lingering in her sight.

Wiping some blood from his face with the back of his hand, Draco turned to face her. “Whatever your reason for being so far from home, Christian, I hope you have healing supplies in that huge satchel of yours,” he said, his timbre gruffed and strained and his breath still catching up from the fight.

Hermione opened her mouth twice to protest, glaring at him. Her eyes found Draco’s leg at last as she noticed the dilating crimson stain on his leather trousers. Her hand darted to her side, where her satchel was still there - on an afterthought she should have dropped it to better fight those men - rummaging in it to find a cloth or something she could clamp the haemorrhaging wound with.

“Let’s go back to my hut. You have some explaining to do, woman,” Draco hissed once she was done with her improvised bandage. He extracted the sword from the man's belly and used it as a walking cane.

Limping beside Hermione, because he was too proud to accept her offer to help him walk, he guided her through the treacherous forest ground. Draco was curious what brought Hermione so far from their home but first, he needed to patch his leg back up.

Hermione kept glancing sideways at the wounded warrior, worried that he might collapse any moment, his bow swaying on her back where she slipped it on. When they finally reached the hut, she immediately started a fire as she needed to boil some water to clean him. Her heart had never stopped fluttering in her chest since she saw him, a myriad of questions twirling in the back of her mind.

As she organized her healing supplies on the bench, she nodded once with her head to the table, ordering Draco to lie on it.

A corner of Draco's lips rose while he took his trousers off, a grunt of pain soon wiping the smirk off his face as he slumped on the hard wood.

Keeping her eyes from wandering to his nudity, Hermione cleaned his wound and stitched it with a needle that had been carved from bone. Draco's thigh was hard and warm against her hand, and she could do nothing against the shivers that touching him sent through her. She hated herself for that.

In an attempt to keep his mind off the pain, Draco kept his gaze locked on the girl beside him. She looked tired, purple bruises staining the contour of her eyes, and her cheekbones were more pronounced than the plump ones he remembered. A groan escaped his mouth when she started tightly wrapping clean cloth strips around his leg.

Hermione moved her eyes on him, staring into his grey irises. “Sorry.” Going back to her task, her gaze fell on his cock and her cheeks tinged red. He chuckled, fighting the heat in his groin.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. When did you leave, Draco?” Hermione asked, securing the bandages with a hairpin. She wondered if he came looking for her after she left, the thought warming her heart a little.

Draco froze, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “You didn’t leave the village to look for me? What are _you_ doing here, then?”

She shook her head, her heart sinking in between her ribs for her wrong assumption. A sense of irritation radiated from her chest. Chin lifting up and unleashing her bossiness, she said, “I just left. I wasn’t expecting to find you. My reasons are not your concern.” She had tried to remain calm but the last words thundered out of her mouth. His posture, his smug grin, everything about him had always drawn out the worst of her.

“Do you expect me to just believe we met by fate?” he clipped.

His haughtiness started to get on Hermione’s nerves. It was best to postpone this conversation after a good sleep. She was exhausted, her body struggling as she stood from the bench. “You need some rest. Go. Now.”

She felt him shift on the table, her gaze purposely low and far from his naked lower body. As his muscular legs appeared in her side vision when he dangled them off the side, she began cleaning up. Her petite fingers worked their way to the bloody cloths on the tables, but a strong, firm hand stalled them.

“Look at me.” Draco yanked her close to him when she stubbornly refused him eye contact. With a gasp, she fell forward, her knees buckling against the corner of the bench. Her waist folded over, and Draco trapped her with his legs. Her body felt good on him, soft and warm, but he buried his desire in the back of his mind, the need to establish his authority stronger.

Her hands pushed on his chest, one still in his grasp. He was solid and hot, his whole body vibrating with anger.

“You have no power over me, Christian. I’m not your pet weasel,” he hissed, memories of their endless arguments filling his mind. He had always hated her overbearing nature.

As his breath hit her face, she pulled back, trying to keep from succumbing to his pull. She didn’t want her nose to join her hands on his chest, his scent already overwhealming her senses. Fuelled by a similar rage, she drew her body back, still not able to free her hand. Her eyes belatedly darted to him, two burning embers boring into his soul. “Release me and go lie down!”

“Or what, Seeress?” Draco slid off the table, pushing her back with him. Winching for the pain, he loosened his grip on her hand.

Hermione jumped back, her eyes quickly locating a shield on the ground. She grabbed it, holding it between them. “If you don’t stay back, I’ll-I’ll...” She was stalling, his haunting eyes were making her belly all warm and melty. She hated the way her body reacted to him, the pull had been too much to resist many times before.

Draco rose an eyebrow at the shield separating them, a smirk pulling at his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. They had argued like this before, fuelled by a facade of hate that could hardly conceal their desire, and he had always found a way to win her over. “Do you wish to fight me? I just took a blade to save your damn life!”

“So? I saved yours many times before!” Hermione watched him walk towards her, her feet dragging backwards and her mind going blank.

Draco chuckled, watching her acting like a young girl but continued to tease her because he loved the way she got cross. “The Gods saved my life by sending you visions. And they saved you too, by sending my father to fetch you. The Christians would have called you a witch and burnt you.”

Glowering at him, she remembered how Lucius had taken her from her village when she was barely eleven. “Oh, it’s the Gods now? I thought I was always going to be a Christian in your eyes. And Lucius kidnapped me!”

Draco scoffed, walking the last couple of steps to Hermione. He smiled when her eyes widened as she realized that she was trapped, her back hitting the wooden wall. “Why did you leave, Hermione?” Draco hissed, putting a hand on the round shield and forcing her to lower it.

Hermione’s heart picked up the pace from its already accelerated beats. They did this dance before - in the spring while the village was loading the longboats for the raids and many times before. Draco had come to say goodbye to her. They had a heated argument, and he had kissed her and...she closed her eyes, breathing calmly, trying to erase the image of an infuriated Draco leaving her hut on the cliff after she almost let him take her maidenhood. “I couldn’t stay. I can’t marry you,” she breathed out.

“I left. I thought that made it clear that we wouldn’t marry.” Draco took the shield from her hands and tossed it on the side. His eyes were molten silver. He wanted her so badly, but knew that he shouldn’t get too close lest he lost control before he got his answer. Moreover, he didn’t believe that they found each other by chance.

“I didn’t know you left as well! I left the morning after the feast!”

Draco’s gaze lost itself somewhere in his memories, and Hermione slipped away from him. She wasn’t fast enough, even if his wounded leg slowed his movements. Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her back to him, the scent of her hair tickling his nose as he buried it into her wild curls. “Of course you know. You followed me...” he breathed in her ear, smiling when she shuddered in his arms.

As much as she loathed Draco and the hell she put her through growing up, her body had other plans. His low husky voice sent thrills right to her core. “I had no idea. There’s no reason for you to stay here now. Go back,” she somehow managed to say while her back arched onto him by its own volition, her behind finding his hard cock.

“I won’t.” He bucked his erection against her, humming in pleasure. His mind was completely taken over by his arousal, and all he wanted was her.

“Because you are a coward,” she clipped, and with the last bit of self control that she could summon, she wiggled out of his hold, quickly running behind the table to put an obstacle between their wanting bodies.

Draco growled, both from not having her in his grasp anymore and from her words. “Shut it, Christian!”

“Oh, now it’s Christian again. Go back. I’ll stay. My vision...we can’t marry.” Being away from his body didn’t do much for her lack of words about her vision.

Draco rounded the table, slowly backing her up again. With calculated steps, he directed her towards his sleeping pelts. “Because you don’t like me…” He ignored the sharp stings in his leg as he leapt forward, tripping Hermione onto his bed. His mouth crashed onto hers, teeth grazing and biting her plump lips.

Won by the heady sensation of his hard body, Hermione parted her lips for him. He was warm and heavy on her as his hands explored her breasts and waist. She sighed when he reached her legs, yanking her tunic upward to access her core. Arching her back, she met his fingers as they found her centre.

She was wet and ready for him, and his pulsing cock couldn’t wait much longer. While his fingers still played with her, he smirked as she moaned in his mouth. When she opened her legs for him, he positioned himself at her entrance ready to slide right into her slick warmth.

A raven crowed in the distance, spreading the will of the Gods as Odin’s pet. and Hermione panicked, pushing Draco from her with all her strength while her Sight flashed images of an empty beach in her mind.

He rolled over, sighing in frustration. His cock screaming at him to just take her. Seeing the way she recoiled on his pelt, her eyes not seeing anything or anyone, tiny pupils fixed on something he could not see, he passed a hand on his face and imposed some calmness to his arousal. “Make up your damn mind, woman! I’m sick of this. We fight, you let me touch you, but then you push me away just as we are about to seal the deal.”

Hermione couldn’t be with him. After the vision she had about the dragon just disappearing, she couldn’t risk being with him and not being able to _see_ him any longer; even if laying with him was not a permanent bond such as marriage.

Draco saw the light tremor to her lip, the pink on her cheek fading into a colourless shade. Wrapping a dark curl around his finger, he scooted closer to her and knelt in front of her. “Tell me what you saw,” he demanded.

Hermione sighed, her chest heavy with a miserable knowledge. “It’s what I didn’t see Draco.”

He cupped her face in his big palms, gently lifting her to him. “You saw something. I can read right through you, love. What have you seen in our future that it’s so bad?”

Shivering, she met his eyes and repeated. “It’s what I can’t see, Draco. I can’t see my future. If we are bonded I won’t be able to see yours as well, and it scares me.”

Draco’s heart soared in his chest as she continued. Her words confessing something deeper than what they meant. “If we marry, if we...I won’t _see_ you again. I know it. I can’t bear not knowing what lies in front of you.”

“I love you,” Draco couldn’t contain a confession of his own. Leaning forward, he kissed her, very gently, his fingers stroking her cheeks and getting lost in that hair that drove him wild.

Hermione never knew that under his harshness of a merciless warrior, he hid a gentle lover. Even if his lips felt like heaven, she interrupted their contact, eager to find out the reason he had left if it was not because he didn’t wish to marry her. “Why did you leave?”

“I dread becoming chieftain. I want to fight and go to Valhalla.” His eyes turned into hard steel.

Her chest tightened as she thought about him dying, but his grey irises were fierce and determined. They were the eyes of a warrior. “Fight you will.” She took a deep breath before she confessed her suspicions. “What the man said in the woods triggered my gift, Draco. There’s a battle in our future.”

Anticipating the adrenaline of fighting, Draco smiled. “I trust you, Hermione. I always did, even if I was a tosser. Do you trust me?”

Tormenting her lower lip, she nodded. “I loved you since you first called my hair a crow’s nest.” They both chuckled as he pulled her in his lap, strong arms warm around her waist. Caressing her back, Draco buried his nose in her curls, creating sweet shivers on her skin. The promise he whispered to her soothed her agitated mind.

“We will face whatever the fates throw at us together.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.


	5. The Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for taking so long to update, life got in the way. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I think there will be about three more.  
> Alpha/Beta love to my RooOJoy...without her, this story would be much worse. All errors left are my own.

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_Paws feeling the earth and nose to the ground, the wolf pack tracked the scent of their prey. The trace was strong._

_Hands bunched on her chest, the maiden was hiding inside a hollow tree, her body crumpled in a fetal position, head hidden in the cradle between her knees and her chest. It was dark, not that she could notice through her squeezed eyes. With a deep calming breath, she tried to focus on her hearing. The wind was howling, leaves rustling under its force. The creatures of the forest were silent, safely hidden from the hunting beasts._

_As the wolves neared the hollow tree, the wind ceased its wailing as if it were petrified by the sight of the pack. The only sound left was the coordinated breathing of the wolves, fast panting, and low snarling._

_Heart thrumming in her chest, the maiden held her breath. The wolves were sniffing the air and the trees, they were too close. Just when she thought that she was doomed to her fate, a long, triumphant howl ripped the silence, and the beasts barreled away with their large stomping paws._

_Collecting her strength, the girl dared a glance from her hollow tree, and she gasped in astonishment._

_What should have been a black night, was hued by an otherworldly green light. The trees were swaying in a rhythmic dance, moved by a mysterious force. The wind was still quiet. Lifting her gaze to the sky, she observed as the celestial vault spun in a nauseating vortex, the stars spiralling out of control in a shimmer of fading flashes. The moon appeared in the midst of that whirlwind, immediately disappearing into the huge jaws of a gigantic airborne wolf._

_The sky went black. The air shattered in an explosion of bright light. All of a sudden, it was daylight, and the sun shone proudly. The last star in the sky never saw the enormous beast that swallowed it all._

_The maiden witnessed the end of the world from her hollow hideout._

 

Tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, Hermione lay on the sleeping pelts. She had never experienced a dream so terrifying before. The future looked bleak. She had to find a way to change it, she thought while her hands were still bunched tight on her heaving chest.

A large, warm hand came up to cradle her cheek, and she remembered. Draco was right by her side, his strong arm reaching down her waist and pulling her close to his body.

As much as her dream had been dreary and mournful, the mere presence of him gave her a spark of relief. With a low hum, he buried his rose into the curls of her nape. His breath tickled her neck, sending shivers to shake her limbs awake. She still couldn’t banish the vision from her sight though, the fear still crushing her lungs.

Draco felt her stiffen in his arms before she slipped out of the pelts’ warmth. Stumbling and heaving, she left the hut. Against his will, he followed her outside, the cold hair hitting his naked torso like a punch to his sternum. Hermione was staring at the sky, frantically looking for something.

“There’s no moon, the wolves ate it,” she whispered in the wind.

Draco wrinkled his nose. “It’s a new moon. Mani is feasting in Asgard.”

Like a resting bowstring, she relaxed, exiling the dread of her vision from her mind by wiping her eyes with the palm of her hands. “What did you see?” She heard his low drawl behind her ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

Her tunic whipped when she turned to face him, sheeting his legs. Feeling her chest heavy, she let a single word out.

“Ragnarok.”

 

* * *

 

Harry spun the silver arm ring around his forefinger, eyeing the intricate way the metal had been bent into a dragon design. With a sigh, he tossed it into the trunk next to his sleeping pelts.

“You should speak with the Chieftain. It’s been many moons,” Ron blabbered between bites of chicken thighs while entering Harry’s longhouse.

Harry blew out some air before addressing his best mate. “First, I'd like to know what Hermione's disappearance means. I have a feeling they are together.”

Ron scoffed, meat sputtering everywhere while he spewed his anger. “She left to avoid her fate. She’s not with him! And if she is, it means he kidnapped her, and I'll get to sink my blade into his black heart.”

Before Harry could retort, a horn bellowed in the distance. “The scouts are back. Maybe they have news!” Harry sprinted out, dragging Ron with him who dropped the chicken legs on the floor. Their hearts were racing, eager to know if their friend had been found.

The freezing wind lashed at Ron, sending his long red hair to whip at his face. Tieing a low tail, he watched the village gathering in front of the Great Hall. A hazardous idea started twirling in his mind while he found his family in the crowd and stood beside them.

The searching party was indeed back.

“Report to me at once!” Lucius’ thunderous voice preceded the chieftain out of the longhouse.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise were taking off their satchels and weapons, the signs of fatigue marring their chapped faces. It was Blaise who addressed the chieftain after a head bow, “We lost trace of him North, at the foot of the Tall Mountain.”

“How could you lose track of him?” Narcissa, even if she was a lot shorter than him, looked down her pointy nose and scowled at Blaise. He recoiled.

“He's an expert hunter, Mistress and he knows how t-” Crabbe closed his mouth, petrified by her glare.

“What about Hermione?” The villagers turned around and opened up a pathway for the old man that had spoken.

Dumbledore slowly made his way to stand next to Lucius. “Have you found any trace of her?”

Blaise shook his head. “Everything points to the North but the trail went cold before the river.”

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, smoothing his long beard while contemplating the news. He hadn’t been able to _see_ her since she left, and it worried him.

“I need volunteers for the next scouting mission.” Lucius searched the crowd, his eyes finding every warrior in the circle around him.

“I will go.” Harry took a step forward, wielding his axe and bowing to the chieftain. He heard a grunt of disappointment from the Weasley clan behind him. It was Ginny; she had been trying to keep him from joining the parties all winter, but he couldn’t bear not knowing what fate befell Hermione any longer.

George and Charlie stood beside him, offering to accompany him.

“If I may, Chieftain.” Dumbledore tapped Lucius’ shoulder with his staff to gain his attention. “I would advise against sending out more men. Spring is close and you need them in their full strength for the raids.”

The chieftain could not believe what he had heard. He would strike the old man if he weren’t his one and only Oracle. He tried to speak calmly, but his voice vibrated. “The Seeress is like a daughter to you! How can you say this?”

With a tired sigh, the old Seer gave him a tight smile. Memories of a little girl with messy hair hunched over a rune plate as he taught her how to read them emerged from the fog of his old mind. “I understand your pain, my friend. If the Gods will, they will come back to us.”

“I agree!” Ron spoke to everybody’s surprise. “It’s time you name a new successor, Chieftain!”

Molly Weasley had always known that Ron was the least bright among her children, to Hel motherly impartiality, but she had never fathomed that he could openly challenge the chieftain like that. Ron had many other qualities. He was kind, loyal, fierce, and strong, but she was sure that this time, his brains were going to get him killed.

The crowd was murmuring when Lucius paced toward Ron, his smokey eyes on fire. When he reached the warrior, everyone went silent. Tilting his head, the chieftain looked into the eyes of the man before him. “Is this an open challenge, Red? Your clan has been trying to get into a better position of power since my ancestors could remember.”

Ron puffed his chest, standing proud. “I was actually going to suggest Harry. You can’t deny his family is your blood.”

Harry was torn between presenting the armring to the chieftain and ignoring what Ron has said, but his best mate decided for him.

“Your son left willingly and named Harry his successor. He can prove it,” Ron hissed, his eyes briefly leaving Lucius to find Harry beside him.

Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Lucius took yet another step closer. When he drew out his sword and lifted it to Ron’s neck, the younger warrior stood his ground, raising his chin up, his eyes as cool as the winter sky.

Molly launched towards the two men, her heart thundering in her ribcage while she opened her mouth to protest. Two strong arms grabbed her by the waist, killing her words at the source. Trapped in her husband’s hold, she could nothing but stare in terror at Ron, her stomach coiling and twisting uncomfortably as she waited for her son to meet a disgraceful end.

Lucius inhaled sharply, his eyes not leaving Ron’s. “Until I breathe, the Malfoys will be in charge. You crows can feast on my body once I’m with Odin.” His blade pressed into the flesh of Ron’s neck just enough to draw blood. He smirked when Ron winced but couldn’t help taking pride in the knowledge that one of his warriors was so determined and wouldn’t back down. Ron would have never found that out, of course.

Moving his eyes to Harry, he lowered his weapon. He gave one single order before entering the Great Hall, “Follow me, Potter.”

 

* * *

 

As Draco lay still, listening to her rhythmic breathing, he pondered on the events of the last couple of weeks.

That day after he had found Hermione, she went back in the clearing against his will and any common sense. He had cursed the Gods when he had woken up cold and alone, but his injured leg couldn’t bring him to her. Seething and worrying, he had waited for her to come back. When she had set foot in the hut again, he had yelled and complained. Hermione had simply told him that the bodies were gone, the expression on her face suggesting him to postpone his scolding and hold her shaking body instead.

After days of silence and sleepless nights, he still couldn’t bring himself to argue with her for her recklessness, her demeanour telling him she was scared.  He had a bad feeling in his gut so he had hugged her tight and dragged her to bed for the first time in days. That night she had the vision.

While they stood outside in the cold, he had unsuccessfully tried to calm her by caressing her body. After he had convinced her to step away from the freezing air and go back into the hut, she had never settled. They had spent the remaining hours of darkness holding on to each other, Draco’s hands exploring her body under the cover of the furs, just not the way he was craving. It was so excruciatingly frustrating. It was agony, but he couldn’t stay away.

He had tried to talk to her, hoping he could help her let out her worries, but she told him the details of what she saw only when the first rays of sun hit them.

Her description of Loki’s wolves destroying their cosmos made him tense. The way she kept recalling the group of men that attacked her in the woods had him shaking.

That was a week ago.

A thick, acrid smell dragged him out of his head and into the present.

Heart hammering in her chest, Hermione stood, her hands immediately finding a shield and an axe. She knew that something was wrong when she ran outside.

Smoke filled the forest, the shimmering light of a fire swayed in the distance. The village was in flames.

Draco pulled himself up, still slowed by his wound. It felt less sore and swollen, but painful enough to cause him to stumble and hop on his healthy leg. He grabbed his sword when he finally saw the dreary vision that the forest had to offer. Amidst the trees, the fumes twirled and expanded, inexorably slithering towards them. The red light of the fire twinkled in the distance. From the putrid mist, a figure emerged, and then a second, a third, and so forth until the hut was completely surrounded.

With a gasp, Hermione backed down, her back hitting Draco’s broad chest. The men were among the tallest, largest warriors she had ever seen. They seemed bigger than Lucius had looked to her innocent, young eyes when she was kidnapped. Every single one of them wore a wolf pelt as a cloak, the muzzle of the beast covering their faces. She felt Draco heaving, understanding that he knew that they were doomed too. She struggled for a brief moment as he pushed her behind him, her panicky eyes not missing the wince of pain on his face as he moved. He was in no condition to fight, but he stood tall nonetheless, his sword between them and those corpulent warriors.

One of the enemies stepped forward, a cavernous laugh sparking from the pelt as he spun around while pointing at his fellows and stating the obvious, “You are surrounded.”

Everyone but Draco and Hermione joined in the laughter.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t slaughter you and some of your men before I go down,” came the proud answer of Draco.

The wolf head canted to a side as the man spoke again, “As much as I wish I could kill you and claim the woman behind you, I am afraid you are important arrows in my father’s quiver.”

Hermione’s terrified face was the last thing Draco saw before a powerful blow to the back of his head sent him into the blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far. Please let me know what you think.


	6. Old Friends, Like Old Swords, Still Are Trusted Best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title credit to John Webster.  
> As always, my love to RooOJoy for her time fixings my mistakes. If there's any left, they're my own.
> 
> Just a warning: In this chapter there's a hint to rape.  
> Nothing happens to the main characters, but it is mentioned as a common Viking practice.

* * *

 

 

When Draco came to, he felt nothing but pain. He couldn’t open his eyes, the lids heavy and sore. Every time he attempted to glimpse at his surroundings, the tiniest speck of light shot excruciating jolts right to his brain. He remembered nothing. With a groan, he shifted his body, finding himself face down in something soft and smelly - a pelt, he decided.

“Draco?” a hesitant call reached his ear, coming from somewhere close. He recognised Hermione’s voice, and every memory came to him with the blunt force of an axe blow - the fire, the forest, the men with the wolves pelts. If the bandits that attacked them had touched Hermione, he would have killed them with his bare hands and teeth.

Draco’s eyes snapped open, and he searched for her, ignoring the piercing agony to his head. Something tugged at his wrists when he leaned forward the second he saw her frame. She had talked from the middle of the mouldy tent their captors had put them in, her hands bound behind her back to the centre pole. Hermione was facing away from him, out of his sight. He could see her straining her neck to turn, failing with a frustrated sob.

Panic rushed through him because he couldn’t set eyes on her face, the blindness corroding him from the inside. He struggled against his restraints, thrashing around in an attempt to reach her. He had the primal need to see her eyes and make sure she was whole. When the thick cord wrapped around his wrists dug into his flesh, he gave up with a scream of frustration. He, too, was tied to the tent’s wooden structure from his hands and feet.

“Are you intact?” he demanded while scrutinizing what he could see of her. Her wrists were bruised and scratched, her hair wilder than usual.

Hermione sighed, knowing the weight of the question he had just posed to her. “I’m in one piece. Just hungry.”

As he let out a relieved breath, she spoke again, telling him what had happened while he was unconscious. “They burnt the village to the ground. We walked passed it as we headed southwards. They locked the women in a tent and…” she couldn’t finish, and he wished he could hold her.

“Have you overheard anything that might tell us why they are keeping us alive?”

She shook her head in response, her curly hair bouncing on either side of the centre pole. “They keep referring to _the plan_ and _father_. The only thing I know is that they are planning something for the coming full moon. We should have reached the next  village by then.”

As Draco moved the short length that his bindings allowed him, sitting up on the filthy pelts, three men entered the tent. One of them was the large warrior that had spoken to him in the forest.

“The blond is awake.” He sneered in his direction while Draco lifted his chin, a deadly glare in his eyes. Ignoring him, the warrior positioned himself in front of Hermione, a silent order to his men directed them around the room. One stood at the door. Another walked towards Draco, his features hidden by a furry hood.

The thick grey pelt on the chief warrior’s shoulders made him appear even larger than he was. His ugly, scarred face, loomed over Hermione as he crouched down, the stench of his mouth hitting her face. She recoiled, the back of her head hitting the pole behind her with a hard thud.

He released an eerie chuckle before addressing her. “Have you seen anything last night, Seeress?”

Holding her breath, Hermione shook her head. A shudder jerked her insides when his eyes hardened.

“I wonder why Father thinks she’s so important.” He stood tall again, his question directed to his mates. The man at the door shrugged, the other was still and silent.

“Who is this father you speak of? Who are you?” Draco couldn’t hold his curiosity, eager to find out who was toying with their lives.

The warrior canted his head to the side. “I have many names. Some call me Greyback, some call me Fenrisúlfr. I prefer the shorter, Fenrir.”

Draco laughed, a burst of amused and unbelieving laughter filling the tent, but Hermione gasped, the frightened sound from her killing his mirth.

“Are you the son of Loki?” she asked in a shaky whisper to which Greyback only smirked, his brow quirking with a hinting arch. She had never seen eyes like his. The grey irises twirled and shifted like the morning mist, subtly uncovering an underlying yellow, animalesque gaze.

As Hermione started heaving, Draco scoffed. He was bewildered that she could even consider this to be the truth. “C’mon Hermione, you can’t be serious. Gods don’t walk on Midgard.”

“Draco, stop-” Hermione attempted to dissuade him from speaking further, but it was useless.

“Gods communicate with our cosmo through animals and visions only! You are a Christian, for Odin’s sake. You are the last person who should believe this nonsense!”

Greyback erased the distance between himself and Draco. Towering over him, he hissed in a clipped tone, “Even the Christian God sent his son on earth to save mankind. I, on the contrary, am here to wipe it out.”

“Well, unless you can prove that you are an animal...and your beastly looks don't count.” Draco looked at him, a challenge in his eyes.

The three men met his words with laughter, the sound shaking Draco from the inside out while it mingled with his very essence.

Fenrir grinned, exposing his teeth. The air itself seemed to still as the man fixed his gaze on Draco. For a moment he thought he saw something changing in Fenrir’s features. He blinked a couple of times, his eyes widening while Fenrir’s teeth lengthened and turned into fangs. His nose and chin shifted forward, becoming a long snout, while his skin slowly covered in dark grey fur.

Before his eyes, Greyback’s body hunched and curved, his limbs bowing and turning into large paws, his skin growing thick fur. In a matter of seconds, a wolf appeared in lieu of the man, yellow eyes boring into Draco. He couldn’t hold a frightened exhalation.

Snarling and growling, the animal paced back and forth in the tent, slowly encircling the central pole until Hermione could see him. Draco flinched when she screamed at the sight of the large wolf. She had been right all along. Fenrir had come to Midgard to bring Ragnarok and destroy the world, and Draco’s practical nature struggled to believe it regardless that he worshipped the Gods.

Hermione’s mind was lost in a spiral of looming thoughts. Her vision had sprung to life like many of them had done before, but never had she thought she could live long enough to foresee the end of the world, nevermind witness it. Fenrir, son of Loki, was real and sniffing her scent in the air, his nostrils flaring widely.

With a surge of magical power, the wolf shifted back to its human shape. Hermione averted her eyes from his naked body, while he proudly walked away.

As he fetched his pelt off the ground, he addressed the man who was standing next to Draco. “Pup, you'll guard them. Bring some food and water.” With a last chuckle, he left the tent, followed by the warrior that had blocked the door.

Draco stared at the back of Hermione’s head for hours, her shaking body hunched forward. Their guard had brought them some much needed rations. Then he had sat next to the door, sharpening an arrowhead while Draco’s comforting words had fallen into the void between him and Hermione.

After another failed attempt at capturing Hermione’s attention, in which Draco had begged her to eat something, the man with the fur cloak scoffed and then chuckled.

“The Draco I used to know would have never tried to spoon feed a Christian.” With a swift movement, he lifted his head, removing his hood and settling his gaze on Draco while a grin pulled at his lips.

Draco gasped, taking in the face of a man he thought he would never set eyes upon again. Green irises stared back while sandy hair fell between them. “Theodore? I thought you were dead!”

“You and I both, brother.” As he stood, he briefly smiled at him before approaching Hermione.

Draco stiffened, not knowing if he could still trust him as he had done before he vanished. Theo had disappeared during a winter hunt two years prior, never to be found again. The village had presumed he had died in the woods. “What happened to you?”

“One night, I strayed from the hunting camp to take a piss and a wolf pack attacked me. After one of them bit me, they left me to die. Or so I thought. It was a full moon.” He removed his fur cloak to expose his arm where a large bite mark marred his pale skin. “I spent the night with a burning fever, hallucinating and writhing, waiting for death. In the morning, Fenrir came back to see if I survived. When he saw me, he welcomed me as his son. I’ve been with them since.”

Hermione had vaguely registered a second voice joining Draco’s but she couldn’t bring herself to pay attention, her mind still flooded with dreary thoughts and visions. She jumped when she noticed that the guard had kneeled down beside her.

The man unravelled the tight knot that was restraining her wrists. She met his eyes as he gently pulled her arms forward, helping her set them on her lap. She could barely feel her muscles. It was then that she finally recognised him. “Theo?”

“Hi, Seeress. Now, eat before Draco starts crying.”

 

 

* * *

  


As the next full moon approached, the pack grew restless. Every day, they marched southwards, attacking merchants on the road and burning down small villages. Theo didn’t enjoy it, but forced himself to follow his alpha’s orders. The instinct of the pack nudging him to fall into line without questioning Fenrir’s motivation.

As he watched the sun rays peeking through the mountain tops in the East, he sat outside the prisoners’ tent. Every morning he was in charge of packing it and every night he was the one to build it up again wherever they decided to set up camp. He had fought an internal battle since they had captured Draco and Hermione.

His loyalty towards Hogsmeade and the Malfoys was still strong in his veins, memories of a childhood with Draco warming his heart. His new family, though, was bonded by a divine connection that had overwhelmed him since the moment he woke up a werewolf.

With a sharp inhale through his nose, Theo rose to his feet. He was to start his daily unpacking and feed the prisoners so that they could face the journey ahead. By nightfall, they should reach Diagon Alley, the last village before the mountain range, the last outpost before Hogsmeade.

The moon would be full tonight, and his body was vibrating with anticipation. He felt the wind on his skin, raising his hair as he stood in line before Skoll for his daily ration. His senses grew more alert as he waited for Draco and Hermione to eat, their coordinated heartbeat thundering in his ears. He could smell Hermione’s fear while he tied her and Draco to a tree, allowing him to undo the tent. His vision became sharper as they walked through the forest.

When they reached the outskirts of Diagon Alley, his orders were to find a tall tree and set up a platform so that he could tie the prisoners on higher ground. That night, they could not be where the pack roamed. Theo wasn’t sure that he would find a hideout tall enough to contain Fenrir, but he also knew that his divine inheritance allowed him to maintain a certain composure and sanity during full moons. He was the only one that could turn at will. All others were subjugated to the moon phases.

As he dragged the prisoners along a rocky path up the hill, his breath struggled to find a rhythm. His chest heaving and his lip bleeding where he had been biting it, he abruptly halted his strides. He had finally made up his mind.

“I want you to listen to me and do what I say.” Theo turned around, the cord that bounded Draco and Hermione loose in his grasp. He found Hermione’s eyes, a spark of understanding glinting in her brown irises. Extracting a dagger from his belt, he approached her. Draco immediately hurried by her side, his face bore a suspicious grimace.

Theo scoffed, his hands raising in a gesture of peace. Returning his gaze to Hermione he spoke in a low whisper. “When I cut the rope, I want you to run west. Don’t stop until you see the first light of day tomorrow. Turn south then, it’s a straight shot to Hogsmeade. It shouldn’t take you more than a week. Fenrir plans to attack next full moon. He’ll gather forces and turn more men tonight. Warn the Chieftain. Be ready.”

Draco felt his body stiffen and relax at the same time. It was the most uncanny sensation he had ever experienced. Theo had been nothing but kind to them. Well, save the ever present rope. But he had never let Draco believe that he would help them. He had always executed Fenrir’s orders without hesitation. He felt relieved that Hermione was about to be free from that nightmare. Unfortunately, he could not help the terror that jolted through his veins, knowing that she would be alone in the forest all night while running from a pack of werewolves. He needed to know more.

He locked his eyes with Theo’s. “What about me?”

Theo grinned, something beastly shifting his eyes to yellow and black.

“You get to rough me up! We need to make this look like you attacked me. Then I’ll take you to the tallest tree and tie you up so that my pack won’t find you and turn you. Or eat you.” He finished with a chuckle.

“Why won’t you free him too?” Hermione’s voice was shaking, the beginning of a sob cutting her last words.

Draco answered, locking eyes with Theo in camaraderie. “Because Fenrir would not believe him otherwise. He would kill him for aiding us.”

Theo nodded, a mix of sadness and thankfulness painted on his features. “I’ll tell Fenrir that you managed to free herself while I was trying to keep Draco at bay.”

With a quick slice, Hermione’s wrists were free. She stood there, her legs stuck to the muddy soil. Her very soul commanded her to stay by Draco’s side. She didn’t want to leave him, the thought ripping her heart apart. She searched his face, her eyes bouncing between his.

Jaw bunched and steely eyes on her, he scowled, his glare piercing through her heart.

“Go. Now!” he hissed, and Hermione’s limbs jolted back to life. Instead of running away though, she rushed to him, her arms surrounding his neck and her tears wetting his tunic. How he wished he could wrap his arms around her waist and pull her closer, without being bound in that awkward position. All he could do was lean forward and bury his face into her curls. She left a trail of wet kisses on his neck and up his jaw, finally capturing his mouth with her soft lips.

He imprinted the shape and feel of her mouth on him, unsure if he would ever get the chance to touch her again.

As Theo cleared his throat behind them, Draco straightened his back, gaze downcast to Hermione. “Go,” he repeated, softer this time. “Warn my father and Harry.” Her hazelnut irises darkened.

As she nodded, large beads of water trickled from her eyes.

“You are my sight, Hermione.” He smirked as she let him go, her hands sliding on his hips. She gave a thankful smile to Theo and began to hustle away, her sobs the last thing Draco heard as she disappeared into the forest.

When the full moon rose that night, Theo joined the pack on three legs, limping and heaving. His ribs were also broken, but his heart was content. He did the right thing, and hopefully, Greyback would believe him.

 

* * *

 

Hermione couldn’t feel her legs. She was moving by the sole force of her muscle spasms. As instructed, she had been running for days, stopping only for brief moments of rest and to consume the scarce food and water she could gather. Pushing her body beyond acceptable helped her keep her mind far from the thought of Draco still in the claws of the wolves. She couldn’t stop to think about the dreading vision that announced the end of the world. As she sprinted down the mountains, she refused to think that that parting kiss could have been the last time she saw Draco.

Hanging on her hope, she thanked Odin for the longer daylight and the milder nights. Spring was upon them, she thought as the first green newborn needles sprung to life on the branches of the evergreen pines and spruces. Ravens croaked animatedly while flying above her. They seemed to follow her southwards, like guardian spirits sent from the gods themselves.

As she shortened her distance from the coast, the trees changed into the more deciduous species of the landscape of Hogsmeade. When she finally reached the cliffs, with her lungs on fire and light headed, Hermione knew that she was home. The sweet scent of the willows soothed her racing mind, the sight of the bay warmed her hammering heart. The wind whipped, carrying the smell of food and salt. Her hair floated all around her as she hurried to the village.

Molly was seasoning some deer meat when she first caught a glimpse of dark curls bouncing around as a fair maiden barreled down the hill. Her hands let go of the meat as she hurried to greet her in a warm embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'd love to know your thoughts.


	7. Betrayal and Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder: this story contains violence.

* * *

Harry Potter was a man of action. With the heart of a lynx, he faced every issue head first. Some said he was incautious and dumb, but he could distinguish between times that called for waiting and evaluation to keep a friend safe, and times like this, when acting was of the utmost importance even if it could hurt someone close to him.

As he watched Hermione telling her story to the Chieftain in front of the whole gathered village, he knew that he would have to be the one to act. The low chuckles of the crowd and Lucius’ facial expressions left him no doubt. He didn’t believe Hermione. Even though what she was describing was ominous and frankly incredible, he had an undying faith in her gift and her sincerity. With a stealth move, he disappeared into the crowd, slowly making his way into his longhouse. The closer he got to the object he was looking for, the more his heart became heavy with grief but hard with determination.

Lucius kept rising sceptical eyebrows as Hermione revealed her vision and how the wolves captured her and Draco, keeping them alive only because they were part of a bigger plan. All the Chieftain cared about was to know the location of where she had last seen Draco.

“We need to fortify the village. They’re marching south as we speak!” Hermione was struggling to keep her cool, aware of the mocking whispers spreading through the Vikings. Lucius’ disbelief made her feel insignificant as she recanted the way Fenrir had turned into a wolf. Scanning the crowd, she looked for Dumbledore. If there were anyone who would confirm her story, that was her mentor. “Albus, Oracle.” Once she spotted him, she bowed her head as she addressed him.

With some difficulty, Dumbledore stood tall, his staff’s bells jingling while he moved on heavy strides towards her. His eyes were impenetrable, making it impossible for Hermione to read him.

“Have the gods appeared to you too?” she asked with a feeble voice, a tiny flame of hope warming her insides.

“No.” His blue irises were as cold as the winter frost.

The fire burnt out, her hopes crushed.

“I’ve seen the coming raids. Nothing else.” The Seer moved closer to her and spoke softly so that only Hermione could hear him, a reassuring hand squeezing her shoulder. “You look flustered, my dear. You need to rest. We can discuss your visions in the morning.”

Hermione grimaced, her chest heaving as she brought her hands to her hair. Those eyes were concealing something, the hardness of them too uncharacteristic for his usual demeanour. The betrayal sliced deeply into her soul, burning her veins as though her blood had turned into molten iron. Her head spun with dizziness as she mumbled to herself. “Nobody even believes there’s a real army coming.” She shook herself free from the old man's touch. With unsure steps, she stumbled around, her vision blurring. “Lucius!” Her shouting reverberated in her ear canal. “Have I ever lied to you? Have my visions ever lead you astray?” She focused on her breathing as she waited for an answer, in an attempt not to collapse. “I bear your mark!” She uncovered her left forearm where the dragon symbol lied, black and bold.

“You haven’t, but you are asking me to believe that you met Fenrir, son of Loki, the giant wolf who will bring Ragnarok. There are no signs of the end of the world. Dumbledore would have seen it. You have been travelling for months. Your gift is probably dulled by your fatigue.” With those words, Lucius put an end to the matter.

“You’ll tell us when and where you last saw my boy.” Narcissa’s order was the last thing she heard before her mind went blank.

 

* * *

 

When Hermione first opened her eyes, the frowning face of Molly Weasley met her.

“Child, stay down. You dropped like a stag pierced by an arrow.” The matron placed a cool cloth on her head and gave her a cup of water. The frown didn’t leave her face as she said, “Harry believes you. My family does too.”

Something was wrong, Hermione could feel it. “Where is he?”

Molly swallowed twice, a whimper trembling her lip. “Harry challenged Lucius. He has Draco’s armring as proof that the heir is standing down. He seeks to be Chieftain so that he can command the warriors to get ready for battle.”

Hermione blinked a few times, her brain trying to process the new information.

Molly scoffed, straightening an invisible wrinkle in her tunic. “He hasn’t said anything about the armring all winter. That boy is convinced that he needs to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ronald knew, of course. Had you been here, I’m sure you would have been aware of it as well.” Her gaze cast low, she whispered, “If he dies, Ginny will die with him. Ron and Harry almost got themselves killed when Ron suggested Lucius name another heir. Harry was able to talk Lucius into a deal at that time. If Draco hadn’t come back by the end of raiding season, Harry would have been named his successor.” She was panting by the time she was done.

Hermione put a hand on Molly’s, trying to calm her down. As much as she dreaded a duel between her best friend and an experienced warrior like Lucius, she understood that there was no other way. Without Dumbledore’s support, Lucius would never occupy resources and men for what he believed to be a tale of her imagination. Harry was smart, and always found a way to do the right thing. He would never forgive himself for killing Draco’s father, but it needed to be done, or at least attempted. With a trembling voice, she murmured, “If Harry dies today, we all will. Fenrir will encounter no resistance and destroy all Midgard.”

When Molly set her eyes on her again, Hermione knew that she understood, a new light of hope glinting in her eyes. As Hermione struggled to get on her feet, her head still fuzzy and faint, Molly reached for her shoulders and dragged her up and out of the longhouse.

The village was already gathered in a semicircle around the arena which traditionally entailed of the narrow line of sand next to the docks.

As Lucius was whispering into Narcissa’s ear, Harry was scrunched down close to the sea. His sword tip lazily traced nonsense on the sand, his face a mask of concentration even if the waves hit his ankles and deleted his doodles. He scanned the crowd, lingering on the group of red headed warriors. With purpose, he avoided the only maiden among them. He couldn’t bear to look into Ginny’s terrified eyes, not before a fight. She understood his motivations, he knew that, but it had always been hard on her to let him go - every spring for the raids, before defeating Voldemort, and this time was no different.

The sky darkened, heavy clouds gathering above him. As a bolt of lightning zapped among them, Harry smiled, waiting for the thunder of Thor. He welcomed the shattering sound in the depth of his stomach, the crushing blast reverberating inside him. Thor was on his side. With a smile on his lips, he rose, meeting Ron’s eyes. His best friend nodded in encouragement, his shoulders moving aside to leave some room for the only other person Harry craved to see there.

Hermione’s heart echoed the thunder in the sky while it hammered on her ribcage. Eyes trained on Harry, she forced a simper when he grinned at her, his green irises impossibly shiny in that gloomy atmosphere. With all the magic she knew that lingered inside her, she wished for a vision to strike her so that she could foresee Harry’s fate. Her sight failed her though, leaving her no choice but to witness the fight with no preconceptions.

Harry and Lucius now stood in front of each other, each holding a round shield and a sword.

“I don’t believe the world is about to end, but if I were to meet my own end today, at least I know I’ll see you all shortly. I doubt anything Potter might plan could stop Loki.” Assuming a more serious tone, he admonished, “The ancient laws are set in the stone, you will all bow to the Chieftain and follow his orders whoever he might be.” Lucius smirked at the silent crowd. He finished, addressing Harry, “May the gods give you a good death.”

“May the gods give you a good death,” Harry replied, adding nothing else. His sword handle rested firmly in his grasp as he rolled his shoulders and wielded the weapon around to warm up his muscles.

The two warriors began circling each other, Harry’s eyes never leaving Lucius’ chest.

As the Chieftain attacked, a blow to his left that hit the wooden shield, Harry remembered Sirius and Lupin’s teachings.

 _Look at their chest. They will attack from the direction their chest points at. Left, right, up, down it doesn’t matter. You keep your eyes there._ He mentally thanked his father’s late friends as he dodged another blow, this time coming for his head from above.

While Lucius prepared to strike from the right, Harry saw an opening and landed a hit to his shield, the wood cracking and sending splinters darting into the murmuring crowd.

They resumed their circling like duelling beasts. Lucius slightly bowed to Harry while he tossed his broken shield in the sea, the dragon emblem split right at the head.

Harry was no fool; Lucius’s bow was no act of surrender. The Chieftain had only dared him to concede to a fair fight. Harry obliged, stopping in his tracks to lower his shield to the ground. The sharp edge of the shield dug in the sand, holding the Potter emblem upright, the white stag proudly standing on its hind legs.

Harry attacked first, erasing the distance between them. The blade grazed Lucius’ shoulder. Crimson blood trickled from the superficial wound.

The Chieftain hadn't expected Potter to put up such a good fight. His eyes narrowed as his arm darted forward slicing the air left and right with a rapid succession of blows. When Harry dodged the last one, Lucius growled, his frustration growing further. As he tried to sink his blade to Harry’s right, he rapidly spun and punched him in the guts.

Harry folded forward, momentarily blinded by the pain at his plexus. He barely registered a movement on his right as he threw himself to the left. Lucius’ sword penetrated his flesh nonetheless, right next to his shoulder and just below his collarbone. With a grunt, he stood back up, adrenaline dulling the agony. His sight was back, and so was the silence around them.

It was time to end this. Collecting his strength with a fortifying breath, Harry jostled his sword with two hands, the close blows leaving Lucius no other choice but retreating until his feet hit the water.

Without hesitation, Harry struck from above, and the two swords crossed each other as Lucius shielded himself. After just a moment of struggle, the blades meeting with equal strength, Lucius’s sword slid up. With a quick movement, Harry stepped in the water, his whole body sliding under the crossed blades so that his back was to Lucius’s chest. Without hesitation, Harry swiftly brought his arms down so that his sword could meet Lucius’ wrist. A gush of blood coated Harry’s face.

A scream of horror erupted from Narcissa’s lips as she watched her husband’s hand tumbling in the air until it met the waves with a plop, the weapon still attached to it and too far for him to get it back.

As Harry turned to face him, Lucius knew that his fate was sealed. With his gaze narrow and trained on the younger warrior, he lifted his chin up, his back straight even if the pain was excruciating.

With a heavy heart but not a second thought, Harry sunk his blade in Lucius’ chest, slicing right through his heart.

Lucius fell on his knees, the water laving at his torso crimson with blood. His eyes were still on Harry. The new Chieftain kneeled before the old, his hand fumbling in the murky waters in search of Lucius’ sword. When Harry found it, he put it into Lucius’ only hand, aiding him so that he could get a good grip on it and die as the great warrior he had always been. Harry canted his head with respect as the old Chieftain spired, his cheeks covered in blood and death.

Like a wave, the village kneeled before Harry as he stood tall before them, a hand clutching at his own shoulder.

“Prepare for war.”

Rain droplets fell upon the living and the dead.

 

* * *

 

Draco was tired. They had been marching for days. After almost two weeks of preparation among the ruins of Diagon Alley, while they sacked every nook of the merchant city, Fenrir had ordered to resume their journey southwards so that they could reach Hogsmeade by the next full moon. They hadn’t stopped the past two nights, and his body was at a breaking point. His thigh was not yet completely healed, the muscle still weak and the wound still tender. Every step was agony, a stinging ache radiating from the rosy scarred tissue. At times, his vision would cover with black spots, his body swaying as he followed Theo. Other times he let Theo drag him forward, the rope the only thing keeping him from falling down, and he suspected from falling apart too. He had an uncanny appreciation of the cord around his wrists. There was something soothing about the way it rubbed against his flesh. The pain and the burn were his companions as he tried to force himself to stay alert, keeping his concentration at bay.

Theo was in no better condition. After Draco had beaten him, unloading on him all of his frustration for the loss of Hermione, Theo had been punished by Fenrir. The werewolf had attacked him under the silver beams of the full moon. As soon as he had read his mind, finding images of Draco’s assault and Hermione’s escape, he had pounced on him. Theo’s neck and shoulders bore the marks of the numerous bites and scratches. Fenrir had closed his jaw on his shackles, at last, dragging him around and lifting his limp body. When the enormous wolf's head had started shaking him like he were a dog bone, Theo had thought he would have died. Although Fenrir had mercy of him and had stopped his swinging, Theo had still laid in a submissive stance for a long time until his alpha had left to give the order to attack Diagon Alley. Nobody had spoken to him since. He had become a pariah, an omega.

As they finally stopped for a short rest, Draco and Theo collapsed next to each other, both grunting in pain. While they ate their ration, Draco let his mind drift to Hermione. He had forced himself not to think about her, lest he lose his cool and break down. She was safe, from the werewolves - for now, at least. By now she was home, most likely his father knew about the threat, and the village was preparing for war. He missed her. He longed to bury his nose into her ticklish curls. With all himself, he wished he could feel her touch.

As a miserable sigh fled his lungs, he closed his eyes for a moment, his body overtaken by exhaustion. His mind had other ideas though and wouldn’t let him sleep. He needed a plan. By the time the battle would break, he would have to know how to free himself and fight for his people. He hoped that Hermione had paid enough attention to the pack to count the exact number of wolves and know that Fenrir would be adding to that. He wasn’t too worried about it since he had relied on her cleverness more than once, her smart mind never once betraying him.

Tired and underfed as he was, he had issues concentrating on a course of actions to get himself out of that predicament. Maybe, Theo could assist him, although he couldn’t ask him to risk his life for them again.

With a tight grin, Theo observed Draco. His eyes were closed but were still frantically darting back and forth. He could almost hear him think as he scrunched his face in concentration. After he scanned his surroundings and found his pack members occupied in eating or slumber, he bumped his shoulder into Draco’s, both hissing in pain at the contact.

“Out with it, mate.” Theo bit into his dried up piece of deer meat, eyeing Draco sideways.

“Do you still believe in Odin? Or do you serve Loki now that you are his son’s dog?” Draco didn’t mean his words to sound so harsh, but they came out mocking nonetheless.

Theo chuckled, a smirk on his smug face. Before he answered, he looked around again, making sure that they were out of prying ears. When he saw that nobody, especially Fenrir, was paying attention to them, he whispered, “I never stopped worshipping the good gods.”

The two warriors locked eyes, an understanding made of a friendship that had its roots in infancy. Draco dipped his head, showing him his appreciation. “Will you fight for Hogsmeade and for Odin?” Draco asked, his heart beating fast and erratically for he wasn’t sure he should be asking him that just yet.

As Theo smirked, a positive answer building up in his heart, a raven landed before them. The bird croaked, his head tilting side to side. Its beady eyes blinked at them as it stole a piece of meat from Theo’s satchel.

Draco chuckled. “Odin’s among us.” He almost believed his own words as the symbol of the god stole their meal. Almost.

They walked for four more days before they reached the coast. Draco welcomed the sight of the sea like an old friend. As he stood on the cliff and the wind caressed his cheeks, he closed his eyes. The willows were in bloom, their scent engulfing him. Hogsmeade was not far. He recognised the promontory in the east. Home couldn’t be further than a day's march.

Theo approached him and leaned on him, an elbow digging into his shoulder.

“We’re home,” he whispered, a lopsided grin illuminating his face.

Draco’s chest began heaving, his eyes firm on Theo’s look of determination. As they had planned, Theo would free him soon enough.

Draco wished that his old friend could just flee with him. Alas, his werewolf form could respond only to his alpha.

They both knew with certainty that Theo would be meeting Fenrir’s ire once more. This time, his friend would probably face death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love and thanks to all of you lovely readers.  
> My undying gratitude to my alpha/beta: RooOJoy.


	8. Of Wolves and Men...and Gods, and Maidens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! I hope you like it.  
> Thank you all! I appreciate all of you for commenting, leaving kudos, or just reading.

* * *

The rope slid off Draco’s wrists and slumped to the ground as Theo let it go. “May the Gods-”

“Theo, listen,” Draco interrupted his friend, placing a hand to his shoulder. “Leave. Run as far as you can from Hogsmeade. When the war is over, we can talk to Dumbledore and find a way to cure you.”

With a chuckle, Theo shook his head. “The wolf inside me is under Fenrir’s control. Once the moon is up, I will turn into his pet, and he'll find my betrayal in my mind. He won’t believe you overpowered me again.” A trembling sigh escaped his lips as he pulled him into a strong embrace. “Even if I flee, the wolf will bring me back. And I’m sure that by now you have figured out why I can’t come with you either. We don’t want my animal form to eat innocent villagers.”

Draco pulled away, piercing Theo’s eyes with his cold gaze. “You’ll die.”

“So be it. I have been aware of my fate since I chose my allegiance.” His green eyes were firm, determined and unafraid.

There was nothing else to say or do. With a last glance to his childhood friend, Draco set his pace in the direction of the village that was just beyond the promontory, only one wish in his mind...finding Hermione.

 

* * *

 

Harry was musing over the upcoming war, his eyes fixed on the horizon line on the sea where the longships of his people were about to disappear. His hands were fidgeting with the handle of his sword, and the runes inscribed on it felt ragged to the touch. The dying rays of sunshine set the crystalline sea on fire, sparks of orange and crimson vibrating on the water. He had no idea if his efforts to prepare the village for war would be in vain, or if his warriors, by the will of the Gods, would triumph over Ragnarok.

All children, men, and women that could not fight were aboard the vessels, hopefully safe in case things took a turn for the worst. A nagging feeling sent prickles of discomfort on his skin. If they lost, there would be nowhere to run from the wrath of Loki and Fenrir.

Taking a fortifying breath, he moved his gaze upon the cliff and found his best friend. The sight of Hermione slightly eased his worries and, with a smile on his face, he lifted his sword at her in salute.

Hermione waved back, her heart feeling like a caged bird. Anticipation and dread filled her lungs as she inhaled sharply. Harry had insisted for her to leave by boat, but she had put her foot down, offering her skills with bow and arrow to his service. Although, the thought of the imminent war against a god was not the thing that weighed on her the most. Hermione missed Draco with every fibre of her being. The dragon hadn't visited her dreams once since she abandoned him in the forest, and it terrified her. If she were being completely honest, she hadn't seen him in her visions since they found each other in the northern woods. The dragon disappearing from her Sight was a worrying sign. She feared Draco’s death. What if Draco had been killed after her escape? What if she was the only one they wanted alive because of her gift? What if they needed them both together and Draco alone was of no use to them?

Her chest felt as though it were being crushed, she couldn't breathe, air struggling to enter while she gasped and sobbed. She felt lost without him, in a way that shook her magical core.

As she wished to be held against his strong chest so that her mind could stop spinning, two muscular arms sneaked around her waist, a familiar scent engulfed her senses.

"I'm home," a husky voice whispered into her wild curls.

"Draco…" her heart soared as she turned around and threw her arms around his neck. With a force she didn't know she had, she pulled him down so she could capture his mouth with her trembling lips. His long soft hair tickled her cheeks and she brushed it back, a smile making their kiss sloppy and breathy. She drank from him like a drifter who finally found land and a stream of fresh water.

The ecstasy didn't last long. Suddenly remembering the latest events in the village, she tore her body from him. Her eyes cast to the ground, she blurted out, "Your father is dead. He wouldn't believe me, and he commanded the village not to prepare for war. Harry had no choice. He challenged him and the gods chose him as our chieftain."

Unable to think or react, Draco sunk to the ground, his vision blurring and his head suddenly fuzzy.

His father. Dead. When his mind finally found a way to properly sort out that information, his first reaction was anger. Harry had betrayed him. A need for vengeance burst into him, his hands trembling with fury. Then his eyes found Hermione by his side, and his heart slowly settled into a less deadly pace.

"What do you mean that he didn't believe you?" His words trembled like leaf hanging on by a thread. Draco's eyes wandered to her left arm where his own father had branded her with the Malfoy dragon. She was, by all means, part of his family, and the Chieftain - the late Chieftain, he reminded himself - had always regarded her as the next Oracle. He should have had blind fate in her visions, unless...

"Dumbledore convinced him that he didn't foresee Ragnarok. Lucius dismissed my worries as results of my exhaustion. Harry saw no other way to protect Hogsmeade." Hermione looked at the sea, the last orange slice disappearing into the water.

Dumbledore had made himself scarce after Harry had become Chieftain. Hermione couldn't ask him why he had betrayed her so. She had initially thought that he was jealous of her for being the one that would take his place, but he had been the one to train her and educate her about all the secrets of the Oracles.

"What would Dumbledore gain by annihilating any chance of survival for Hogsmeade?" Draco stood, his hands balled in a fist, and walked to the precipice. The moon would be at its peak soon, and he needed to prepare for the fight. Theo’s axe was secured on his hip, and he stroked the blade fondly. The most important thing now was finding Potter. He needed to hear his version of the story and to ask him about his plan.

"Perhaps, it's time that I answer all your questions, children." A deep voice spoke from behind them.

When they turned, Dumbledore was observing them with sprightly eyes, a grin visible under his beard.

Draco stared at the old man, and couldn’t shake the feeling that Dumbledore had something to do with their misadventures. “Why did you betray Hermione? Why wouldn’t you believe her?”

The Oracle stepped forth and halted beside him, his eyes perusing the horizon with a frown. The air felt electrified, a metallic scent weighing it down. “I was just trying to keep you safe.”

Hermione gasped, suddenly realising something terrifying as the smell of magic reached her senses. “Why did you want us to marry? Were you trying to make me lose my Sight?” She took a tentative pace in his direction. “Do you serve Loki?”

Dumbledore laughed, his head falling backwards while he looked at the sky.

“I don’t serve any of the gods, you silly mortal. I am one.” He eyed her sideways while brandishing his staff in a circular motion. The weapon emitted a golden shimmer before exploding a blast of energy that knocked her off her feet, the atmosphere crackling like it would in the aftermath of an earthquake.

Draco covered his eyes and braced himself, his feet inches from the cliff. By a hair’s breadth, he kept himself from falling into the void below him where he would have found an inglorious death against the rocks.

Before their eyes, the old Seer morphed and shifted into a beautiful young man. His worn cloak turned into a shiny, dark green tunic. His beard disappeared, and his grey hair darkened to a deep shade of black. Energy swirled and moved the wind and earth.

“I am Loki,” he announced with a chuckle as he hit the ground with his staff and vanished, leaving a cloud of golden dust behind.

Sounds of howling resonated into the forest as Draco and Hermione began a mad run down the hill to reach the village. Hermione carried a bow and a quiver full of poisoned arrows. When they arrived at the bottom of the cliff, they saw mayhem.

The pack of wolves was devastating the village, biting with their strong jaws and scratching with their claws.

There was no time to lose, but Draco couldn’t stop himself from turning to Hermione, a hand reaching out to pull at a curly lock. He watched mesmerized as the curl bounced back when he released it. When his eyes met Hermione’s, his heart leapt in his chest.

“Stay out of the battlefield, please. You have plenty of arrows. Don’t waste them. Aim at their skull or heart-”

Hermione interrupted him with a kiss as desperate as his soul felt. It was brief, her tongue barely teasing his lips, but the intensity of it left him breathless.

“Let’s fight, my warrior,” she whispered on his mouth.

Draco nodded and ran into the chaos, letting out a liberating roar. He knew that the night before them would be endless and daunting.

 

* * *

 

Harry sunk his blade into the enormous chest of a werewolf, trying to ignore the pain in his injured shoulder. The creature died with a whimper. He had lost count of the enemies he had killed during that long night of war.

The village was on fire, and he had lost track of Ron and the other Weasleys. George had been disfigured by the jaws of one of those beasts. His left ear was gone, but he had managed to kill the wolf by piercing its belly from underneath. Harry had lost him in the chaos after that.

As the dawn approached, he asked himself what would happen to the wolves. Would they keep fighting once they turned back to human? Would they turn back to human? He wasn’t sure. Hermione had told him how Fenrir turned in the middle of the day, she didn't know about the others.

Hogsmeade's warriors were exhausted. Harry was starting to lose faith. He had tried to engage Fenrir in a duel since the battle had started, but the elusive son of Loki kept hiding in the woods to give orders to the other wolves.

For the first time that night, Harry stopped. His eyes scanning his surroundings. The air smelled of smoke, blood, and that distinctive saltiness blowing from the sea. A flash of platinum hair captured his vision from the side. He turned and found Draco Malfoy slaying a wolf, his hatchet hitting the animal’s skull with a crack. With a feral growl, Draco dislodged the weapon from the bone and turned, his eyes finding Harry. His face was covered in blood, so Harry couldn’t read his features. Did he know about Lucius?

Draco froze when he saw Potter, his grip tightening around the axe handle.  A surge of anger shook his chest, but it was just a fleeting thought. The wind blew some dust in his eyes, and the fastidious bits brought him back to the battlefield. That’s when he saw Loki. The god was standing next to the Great Hall, a mocking smirk plastered on his angular face. What Draco didn’t see was the giant wolf charging him from the flank.

His lungs burned for the lack of air as the beast collided against him while his body violently hit the ground. It was Fenrir. Scratching and biting, he started mauling at Draco, and all he could do was hold on to his shield and hope it would be enough to avoid teeth and claws.

As fast as Fenrir had attacked him, he was thrown sideways by the force of another body. From under the shield, Draco saw Harry engaging with the wolf. He had no time to help his new Chieftain as his eyes wandered towards Loki again. This time, he found Hermione there, swinging a sword at him, her bow forgotten somewhere on the battlefield.

“I have been a father to you since you were brought into the village. I doubt you can compel yourself to hit me,” Loki taunted her, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Hermione felt the accusation in the depth of her heart and knew that he was right. Even if she were to strike him, she suspected that a god couldn’t really die. “I know that fighting would be pointless. But I want you to pay for your betrayal by tasting my sword. Even if it wouldn’t kill you.”

Blinded by her rage, she didn’t notice Draco approaching them as she charged.

Loki warded off her attack with his staff and sent a blast of energy from the tip of it that flung her backwards, a metallic smell engulfing her before she fainted.

The sight of Hermione slumped on the muddy earth ignited a fire inside Draco that spread through his limbs like lightning. It felt like Thor himself had possessed him to finish his brother.

“Draco,” Loki cooed, and his staff crackled with electricity as he aimed it at his chest. “Did you come to punish me too? Perhaps, your motivations could be deeper than Hermione’s. I predicted your father’s death before your cowardly flight North.” His laugh reverberated around Draco’s chest like an echo of thunder.

Without engaging in useless small talk, Draco charged forward, and wielded his bloody axe in a circular motion to prepare it for striking. He knew that the killing a god was not in the cards of a mortal, but if he could at least disarm him, then maybe there was still hope.

Loki was taken aback by the velocity of Draco’s action and didn’t have time to guard himself. Draco’s weapon hit the staff on the tip, where the source of the energy was, and the air stilled as a sulfur smell filled the atmosphere.

Draco was hurled to the side by the explosion that followed, Loki’s staff disintegrating in a million metal shards.

Deafened by the blast, Draco slacked his jaw to try to adjust his ears. His shield had been pulverized, only his axe still firm in his grasp. With some effort, he stood back up, his eyes fixed on Loki. The god was staring astonished at his shattered weapon.

“How could you?” Loki’s voice was low and furious, like a growling wolf.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she looked for Draco and was relieved to find him standing before Loki, breathing and whole. With a sigh of relief, she scanned her surroundings. The battle was still raging, and her best friends were still alive. With pride soaring in her chest, she saw Ron killing Hati and Skoll. She recognised the other sons of Loki only because Theo had described them to her. The only albino wolves in the pack. Harry was fighting Fenrir: and at the moment, he was straddling his enormous neck while his sword landed a fatal blow to his skull. The beast fell, and Harry rolled off him, his body limply resting on the ground in exhaustion.

Hermione smiled and turned her head upwards to the sky above her, dawn was fast approaching and coloured the sky with a palette of purple and oranges. A large bird flew by in the celestial vault, perhaps a raven. Hermione couldn’t discern what it was until it descended on Hogsmeade with its black feathers. Before it touched the ground, the bird turned into a warrior dressed in a golden tunic, a matching winged helmet covering his head. Even if she could not see his face, Hermione recognized Odin.

Dawn fell upon them as well, and the wolves shifted back into unarmed men who backed down at the sight of Odin, surrendering to the warriors of Hogsmeade.

The god of magic, king of Asgard, brandished his precious sceptre, and a golden rope sprouted from the ground beneath Loki, ensnaring him.

“You had a solid plan, my son,” Odin thundered. “Conquering all Midgard from North to South with your pack of wolves was a clever strategy. You thought that leaving Asgard untouched would keep us gods oblivious to your moves.”

As he took his helmet off, his glacial gaze moved to Draco and Hermione, a simper playing on his face. “It worked until you tried to temper with her vision. Her Sight called upon me right away. You thought that by marrying the Seeress off, she would lose her connection with me.”

He laughed, his eyes returning to a glowering Loki who seemed to be trying to yell, but couldn’t. Magic was probably keeping him silent.

“It would have worked. But humans have a mind of their own. You should have killed them both, but you couldn’t. Am I right, son?”

Loki looked at Hermione, a sad smile not reaching his eyes. Cocking his head downward, he scoffed and opened his mouth to talk, discovering that he was finally allowed. “I couldn’t bear killing them. My mistake was growing fond of two mortals. The same mortals I had been trying to wipe off the Cosmos.”

Odin chuckled while he casually snapped his fingers. Appearing out of nowhere, the Valkyries descended to Midgard, taking Loki and the wolves, along with all the fallen warriors away.

In the catharsis of that moment, Draco felt that his choice to be a warrior instead of a chieftain was right, even if it resulted in his father’s death. He would stand behind his decision and follow his new Chieftain’s lead, wherever he may take the spring raids. When the Valkyries vanished, they left behind green ribbons, dancing in the brightening sky.

Hermione observed the Aurora in awe, while Draco helped her up, a strong arm secured around her waist. She felt safe, as though the hard plains of his torso were meant for her to stand alongside them. A sense of calm and contentedness spread inside her body, relieving her sore muscles and making her heart lighter. They were both alive, and that alone made her soul soar. The joyful grin he offered her sent a thrill down her spine.

“Before I go,” Odin spoke, bringing Hermione’s attention back to her surroundings. “You saw that the dragon of your dreams disappearing.”

Hermione nodded even if it wasn’t a question.

“The dragon is Draco. He is your dragon. The visions are your Sight telling you that it would fade, should you marry him, but you already suspected as much.”

Draco’s arm pressed her tighter to his side. It was just an instinctive reaction, but he felt a sense of security in having a god confirming that Hermione and he were fated to be together, he as her warrior and she as his sight.

Odin smiled fondly as he eyed Draco as though he could read his thoughts. “As a reward for helping me defeat my trickster son, I will lift the Seeress’ curse. You two are free to marry. Your sight will still change. You won’t be able to see anybody’s future but your husband’s, but it’s better than nothing. Right? She’ll remain your sight, Draco.”

With a parting nod and magical crack, Odin turned back into a raven and flew to the sky, disappearing with a loud croak.

Hermione leaned into Draco, relief spreading over her like a soft pelt.

Draco caressed her chin, tilting her head upwards. The smile on her face made his heart leap. Her eyes were sparkling in the morning light as he claimed her mouth.

A roar of cheers and laughter spread all around them, and Draco reluctantly let her lips go to look at the village. The warriors were gathered around them in a collective hug.

With a gasp, he realised that Theo was not among the survivors, but he knew that he was feasting in Valhalla by now as he died as an honourable man.

The crowd opened up to let Harry go forth. Draco met his eyes and bowed his head.

Things would require time and effort to go back to the way they were before this adventure began, but at least Harry knew that Draco would accept him as his Chieftain.

That night, the village flooded the Great Hall, filling it with joy and new life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Renewing my thanks to RooOJoy for her invaluable alpha/beta work.  
> To InDreams and Kyonomiko...thank you for this AU fest and the inspiring prompt.  
> To you, for reading!


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